Humble Pie by Alex Archer
by Howlcastle
Summary: Ever wondered what Hagrid and Hermione talk about? Hagrid has a baking accident and Hermione find that there is more to slug vomiting than meets the eye...


**Hermione's Humble Pie**

"I'm sick of Ron at the moment," she spat at Harry as she stomped off in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. She really didn't know what to make of Ron at the moment. She had hoped that this year would be different, that they would get beyond the childish bickering and become the friends she always hoped they could be.

Hermione walked beneath the goal hoops. She looked up at them, thinking of the boy who she'd helped get on the team. She never doubted his skills, but she couldn't resist confunding any real competition he had to ensure that he got his position on the team. Even though she wasn't very well versed in the ways of Quidditch, she knew how important it was to him.

Turning away from the posts, with an even bigger scowl on her face, she kept walking until she was beyond the pitch and heading for the grounds on the other side of it. It was all going so well too, she thought. Ron seemed so happy and confidant after getting on the team, and she just loved to see him like that. It hadn't lasted long though, because of Professor Slughorn – but that wasn't her fault, and she knew deep down he knew it too.

Then, what she had been longing for had happened. She had actually plucked up the courage to ask him to Slughorn's Christmas party, and he'd said yes. Yes! Actually, it was one of the few times she was glad of his defensiveness. If he hadn't jumped down her throat about taking a date to the party, she would never have had the gumption to ask him.

So much for that though, she thought, kicking a stone out of the way as she briskly walked parallel to the edge of the forbidden forest. There had been a moment there in the greenhouse. She had nearly felt it in the air, the electricity between them when his eyes locked on hers. He had said yes, and everything was wonderful.

If only she knew what had happened. One minute they had both been so happy, then a matter of hours later he was back to scowling at her. She threw her hands up in frustration, even though there was no one there to see the gesture. If only she knew what she'd done, because, as far as she knew, she hadn't done anything! He was just a prat. A stupid, insensitive idiot, with his ridiculous erythrophobia, his self depreciation, and his adorable grin.

Hang on, she thought, wasn't I trying to mentally berate him? She stalked along, trying to fight a bout of erythrophobia herself. What had he done to her? She didn't have time to search for an answer, however, as she heard a yell coming from ahead of her. She lifted her eyes from the grass and looked in time to see Fang being pushed out of Hagrid's hut.

"Jus' stay away from it, ya dopey dog," roared Hagrid from inside his home as a volume of smoke strayed from under the door and from the cracks in the windows.

Hermione didn't wait for more evidence of things going wrong, but sprinted towards the hut, flinging her fists at the door.

"Hagrid? What's going on? Are you ok?" She screamed.

"Hermione, is tha' you?" Called back Hagrid.

"Yes, it's me! Why is there smoke coming out of your house?" she screeched, trying to push the door open, Fang jumping about her in a frenzy. "Let me in!"

"Err...just hang on a minute, will you?" She heard Hagrid yell over a loud clattering of metal.

Hermione didn't know what was going on in there, but she knew by the amount of smoke billowing out from underneath the door that even Hagrid wouldn't be safe from smoke inhalation if he stayed in there unventilated. She did the only thing she could think of to do.

"Alohomora!" She yelled. The door sprang open, and she nearly tripped as she tried to enter the hut at the same time as Fang.

"Get out of it, Fang!" Hagrid roared, knocking Fang back from the large lumps of what looked like coal that sat on the table. Flames licked out from the small stove in front of him, which he was trying to quell with a blanket. Hermione could see he was fighting a loosing battle – his beard also seemed to be burning at the ends. She wasted no time, despite Hagrid's shouts for her to get out and take Fang with her.

"Aguamenti!" she cried, brandishing her wand, and a jet of water spouted from the end of it, drenching both Hagrid and the stove. Hagrid spluttered as the water caught him unawares. She ran forward to check that he was ok. "Oh, Hagrid, look at you!"

"I'm fine, Hermione," he coughed on both smoke and water now, "it's just a bit of soot," he added, wiping large black marks off his ruddy cheeks.

"Open the windows, and let the smoke out," she coughed, opening the back door. He followed her order, opening the windows that she wasn't able to reach.

"Ah, tha's be'er," Hagrid said, standing at the back door overlooking the pumpkin patch with Hermione as they breathed in the fresh air. "Thanks for tha', Hermione."

"What were you trying to do, anyway?" Hermione asked, looking back into the hut that was now wallpapered with soot. She went to sit on the back door step for a minute to catch her breath, when Fang whipped past her. Luckily, Hagrid's strong hands grasped her shoulders and steadied her as she teetered on the step. His grip hurt more than a little fall probably would have, but she was great full all the same, she knew that he had no real idea of how strong he was in comparison with other people.

"Ah, Fang you blasted dog!" Hagrid yelled as Fang delightedly ate what appeared to be one of the big black coals.

"Is that one of your scones, Hagrid?"

"Not exactly. They're scones, but they have blood added instead of milk."

"Blood? Why?" asked Hermione, "It's not for Grawp is it?" She hoped that Hagrid wasn't encouraging his giant half-brother to have a taste for meat.

"No, not fer Grawpy, fer Aragog. He's been so ill lately tha' he doesn't eat very well. So I thought I'd make him somethin'. I put them in jus' before the Quidditch match, and time got away from me, I guess. When I came back the oven was on fire."

"Oh, Hagrid, you should really be more careful," said Hermione, switching into the berating tone that she used with Harry and Ron. "You should always stay in the kitchen when you're cooking."

"Well, I know tha' now," he smiled at her broadly. "Not tha' the scones turned ou' too differen' from usual," he added, his smile dropping. "You'd think I'd be loads be'er by now. Ever since the Weasley twins left, I've had a lot more time to spend with Grawpy and learning to cook. It's a nice change after trying to keep them from gettin' into mischief on the grounds fer years."

She always marvelled at how such a strong person could become childlike and insecure in a second. In a way, Hagrid reminded her of someone else she knew.

"Come on, Hagrid, I can just use a cleansing charm on your kitchen, then I'll help you make more if you like."

"I'd 'ppreciate tha', Hermione," Hagrid said, a smile appearing once more beneath his forest of beard. "It is a bi' of a mess tho'."

Hermione stepped back into the hut with Hagrid, and surveyed the damage. "Look, Hagrid, there are still enough scones here, for Aragog. I think Fang only got the one," she said, eyeing the smoking coals that remained on the table. "You could make some proper scones for yourself instead."

"Tha' might be a good idea. He doesn't have much of an appetite these days," he said sadly, looking at the near dozen scones. She patted his arm, then turned back to business.

"Right, then. Scourgify!" she shouted, the soot around them vanishing, leaving only the dishes in the sink.

"You really are the brightes' witch of your age, Hermione," beamed Hagrid.

"Thanks, Hagrid, but I'm afraid I don't know a charm for cleaning the dishes. I guess I should really learn it now, so I can help Mrs. Weasley next time I stay at the Burrow. If there is a next time," she added dejectedly as she turned the hot tap and began filling the sink.

"You and Ron 'ave another figh' 'ave you?" Hagrid asked in a concerned way.

Hermione remembered how great he'd been in third year when she'd spent a lot of time with Hagrid getting things researched for Buckbeak's trial. He'd never asked her anything about the fights between her and the boys after she'd given him the facts straight up.

"Well, not exactly," she began, handing Hagrid a bowl to dry. "He's angry at me all of a sudden, and I have no idea what I'm alleged to have done."

"Hmm," Hagrid growled in his baritone, "yer didn't badmouth Quidditch or somethin', did yer?"

"No. Nothing. In fact," she blushed, "we agreed to go to Slughorn's Christmas party together. And then all of a sudden, he's hardly even talking to me!"

"Well," began Hagrid, stacking the last clean plate on the table, "I wouldn't worry abou' Ron. He'll come 'round."

"Yeah, well I hope so," sighed Hermione, wiping her hands dry. "Do you have a recipe?"

"Are yer really goin' to help me make scones? Are you sure you don' wan' to go to the party? They were always grea', those Gryffindor parties," Hagrid said wistfully.

"No, it's fine. I'm not really in the mood to watch Ron gloat all over the place, I'll just go up later after the scones are done."

"No, yer won't," Hargrid said, suddenly looking fierce. "Wha' did you think you were doin' walkin' about the school grounds by yerself anyway!"

"Huh?" Hermione was lost for a second, until she grasped the fact that Hagrid had just realized she'd been walking about the grounds solo. "Oh that. I just needed to clear my head. I didn't mean to walk so far."

"Yer should know better than tha' Hermione! It's bad enough you lot using tha' cloak and goin' abou' the school on the sly and visitin' me, but to walk around by yerself. Yer smarter than tha'!"

Even though Hagrid looked angry, she knew in her heart of hearts that he was just concerned about her, but this on top of Ron's behaviour was too much for her, and before she knew it, tears were slipping down her cheeks. She tried wiping them away, but it was too late, Hagrid had seen them.

"Err, I'm really sorry Hermione. I didn't mean to make you cry," he began, squeezing her shoulder, "Don' worry, I won' give you detention or anythin'."

Hermione wiped her face and stopped crying. 'It's ok, Hagrid. It's just been a bad day, that's all. Let's bake these scones."

"Righ'," agreed Hagrid, obviously relieved that she'd stopped crying. "But I'm walkin' yer up to the castle later, mind."

"Of course," said Hermione taking hold of the stained recipe Hagrid handed her.

They measured and mixed the ingredients in affable silence, Hermione treating baking, (which she'd never done herself), as if it were potions.

"Wan' a cup o' tea?" Hagrid asked as she put the scones into the little oven.

"That'd be really nice, actually," she smiled.

They both sat down at the table in silence and sipped their tea. Then out of the blue, Hagrid said something that made Hermione's stomach flip.

"You do know Ron loves you, righ'?"

She just stared at him. Then said, "yes, of course. As a friend."

"Don't fool yerself, Hermione. It'd take mor'n a friend to do wha' he's done fer you."

She put her mug down, speechless. Where was Hagrid getting all this? Had Ron said something to him?

"I knew righ' away tha' time you lot showed up 'ere with Ron vomiting slugs all over the show," he patted his nose knowingly.

"Harry would've stood up for me if Ron hadn't. It's just that Ron acts without thinking, that's all," she sighed. Plus Ron's got a raging temper, she thought. He can't help himself.

"Use your brain, Hermione," Hagrid said softly.

Hermione's train of thought was interrupted by Hagrid's choice of words. No one had ever said _that_ to her before.

"No, listen," said Hagrid. "Wha' does Ron do if he gets too much homework? Or is forced into doing something he doesn' want to? Or takes the blame for somethin' someone else has done?"

"He gets grumpy and angry about it," she said without hesitation.

Hagrid stretched back in his wooden chair and added, "And wha' else?"

"Well," Hermione thought hard, "he complains a lot."

"Yup," grinned Hagrid over the top of his mug. "Tha's how I knew."

"What do you mean, Hagrid?"

"When he was heaving his guts out fer hours, did he complain about it?"

"Yes, didn't you hear him? He couldn't stop badmouthing Malfoy. And then Filch," she added, thinking of how Filch had made him scrub the trophy room for hours.

"Well, yeh," relented Hagrid. "But he was complaining about wha' Malfoy did to _you_. He never said nothin' abou' those slugs comin' ou' of his mouth, or tha' he had to do it fer you."

Hermione picked up her mug and took a thoughtful sip as she processed what Hagrid had said. She ran through that day in her mind.

"You're right, Hagrid, but he would've done the same for Harry."

"Well, yer prolly righ' abou' tha'. Bu' I think Harry would've been hearin' abou' it all day, don' you?"

It struck her that Hagrid was dead right. She could just see Ron being mock angry and hassling Harry about being in the line of fire. She blushed and grinned back at Hagrid.

"So don' you worry abou' Ron. He'll cool down."

"I hope so. I hate it when we don't talk. It's even worse when I don't even know why!"

"It'll be ok, Hermione," Hagrid said getting up and turning off the oven. "I can guarantee tha' even though he's not talkin' to you he'll be thinkin' bout' you."

"Then why doesn' he jus' talk to me then!" Hermione said exasperatedly.

"Well," mused Hagrid, thinking his words carefully as he upturned the hot scones onto a plate and refilled their cups with tea. "You've spent enough time with the Weasleys to know wha' they're all like."

"Yes," sighed Hermione. "They all have tempers, and have a lot of pride."

"There are good things too," Hagrid smiled, passing her some butter in a very ugly pottery dish. "Loyalty and courage. Y'know. Tha' kind of thing."

And strength, intelligence, true-heartedness, she thought as she bit into one of the scones, and in Ron's case, handsomeness and adorable insecurity.

'These are really good, Hagrid," Hermione said happily as she chewed her hot scone.

"Couldn' 'ave done it withou' you, Hermione," he beamed back at her.

"Thanks, Hagrid," she said, and she was pleased to see that he realized that she wasn't thanking him for the complement.

_If you were wondering, erythrophobia is the extreme term for not wishing to blush in uncomfortable situations. I thought Hermione, being the smart cookie she is, would be clued up on such a complicted word. ;)_


End file.
